


Fear of Flying

by myrthrilmercury



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Closure, Denial of Feelings, Drunkenness, Fear of Flying, First Dates, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Meddling, Musical References, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Gestures, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Denial, Sharing a Bed, Sibling Love, Song Lyrics, Suspension Of Disbelief, well duh it's the title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 19:05:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7373803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrthrilmercury/pseuds/myrthrilmercury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Phil Kessel doesn't seem like the kind of guy who gloats or seeks revenge. So if the Penguins win the Stanley Cup, he probably won't haul it to Toronto."</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Carl Hagelin, however, has no qualms with getting him to do it anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Phil Kessel had expected a far more uneventful offseason.

Once the parade, additional celebrations, and extra media attention had concluded, it started off that way. After all, he had returned to Madison, the epitome of boring, and would be there for the next three months. Amanda had also come back home, but she was keeping herself busy. When she wasn’t on the phone with or texting other friends or teammates, she was hanging out with a high school friend who was expecting her first child. 

Even Blake had come back for a month. Phil couldn’t blame him one bit for not staying too long—the guy was practically German now, and everything over there was so electrifying, so cosmopolitan, that there was really no reason for him to want to stick around in Cowtown. Phil also secretly suspected that Blake never would have showed up in the first place had they not had their day with the Cup, but he kept his mouth shut.

True, Madison wasn’t Pittsburgh. It was chilly, buggy, and mundane, but there were some things to be said for being back home for a while. Of course the past two months had been exhilarating, but he probably needed a break, and Madison was the perfect place for that due to the largest benefit of being there.

Namely, to some extent, he had his anonymity back.

Sure, some folks recognized him and he’d get the occasional photo or autograph request, but there was no more ducking into the 24-hour Giant Eagle at 1:30 AM, strategizing to avoid large crowds, or needing to be hyperaware of his surroundings. 

Hell, here nobody batted an eye if he barreled down the Seminole Highway with the windows down, singing along with Tom Petty at the top of his lungs as the sun set. 

The only difference was that Bonino wasn’t in the back seat telling him to stick to hockey; to which Phil would always reply, “I don’t see you getting any record deals.”

And Carl? He wouldn’t say anything. He’d be right up front singing along, too.

That was really the only bad thing about being in Madison now: the people he should have been hanging out and celebrating with weren’t there. Of course he treasured the moments with his hometown friends and family.

But it always felt like something was missing. 

He didn’t have the camaraderie here. There were no post-win celebrations, no commiserating after a loss, no having teammates over until ungodly hours of the night, no chirping, no Sheary and Rust needling one another over the proper pronunciation of “GIF,” no prank wars, and no face-to-face conversations. Texting, phone calls, and social media could only do so much. 

That was probably it, Phil kept telling himself. That was most likely why it felt like there was a sudden void, especially after the past two months.

And that was what he continued telling himself as he pulled off at the next exit and slowed down, allowing himself to zone out as the background vocals kicked in and he sang even louder.

_She had one little promise she was gonna keep...oh yeah, all right…take it easy, baby…make it last all night…she was an American girl…_  
***  
“Are you texting Carl _again?_ ” was the question Amanda posed from behind Phil’s shoulder.

“We’re Instagramming,” Phil replied as he closed the app and set his phone down on the kitchen table. “There’s a difference.”

“Eh, if you want to argue semantics, fine.” Amanda opened the refrigerator door and began rummaging around. “My point still stands, though.”

“That being?” 

“You talk to Carl a lot.” Amanda pulled a packet of coconut water out of the fridge and slammed the door. “Like, a _lot._ ”

“Well, yeah,” Phil stated with a slight shrug. “I mean, we’re close.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Amanda smiled through pursed lips as she set the packet down on the table.

“We’re teammates and all. Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve been wondering. Any chance of you being…” Amanda sat down in the chair located across from her packet of coconut water and began fiddling with the attached straw. “More than teammates?”

“Of course. We’re linemates.” 

Traces of irritation crossed Amanda’s face as she focused her eyes towards the ceiling, then back on her brother. “More than that.”

“Yeah, we’re friends. Really good friends.”

“No, I mean…” Amanda sighed deeply and rolled her eyes, exasperated that she even had to spell this out. “Like…would you consider Carl boyfriend material?”

Phil immediately straightened up in his chair as disbelief shot up his spine. “Wait, _what?!_ ”

“You’re totally into each other. I can tell.”

“No, you’ve got the wrong idea.” Phil raised his hands in front of him defensively. “We’re friends. Good friends. That’s all. I’m not that kind of guy.” Though he never did seem to have good luck with his previous girlfriends, a fact that Amanda thankfully omitted.

“Really, now?” Amanda snatched Phil’s phone from the table. “Let me see.”

“Gimme that!” Phil snapped as Amanda opened up the contact history tab. Of course, she had managed to nab the phone before it went to sleep.

“Hmm…” Amanda scrolled through the history, and Phil only took some small comfort in the fact that she wasn’t actually reading any of the messages. “Five from Geno, eleven from Bonino…ooh, there’s a file attached to this one. If he sends pictures of Maisie, you have to let me see. Um…three from Sheary, two from Dumo, and…” 

There were at least three minutes of silence as Amanda continued counting the messages until Phil became sufficiently annoyed enough to grab the phone back out of Amanda’s hand.

“Eh, that’s okay, I was just about to give up anyway. I was trying to count all the messages from Carl and I lost count at 67.” 

The first thing Phil did when he got his phone back was to lock the screen. “Okay, so we talk a lot. What’s the big deal?” 

“I only went back two days.” 

“…Huh.” Okay, so they did talk an awful lot. But still… “That doesn’t necessarily mean anything.” 

Amanda raised one eyebrow. “You didn’t text or post that much the day we had the Cup.”

That was true, since other than posting the photos they took, including the one where they filled the Cup with hot dogs, the day was mostly spent offline with family and local friends. However, Phil did ask his mother to take two additional photos of them. One was the Wonder Twins pose with Amanda and the Cup between them, and then Blake joined them for the subsequent Charlie’s Angels pose in the next. “We were busy that day.”

“You’re right.” Amanda finished her coconut water and got up to take it to the trash can. “But I at least want you to think about what I said. All right?”

“…Why?” By this point, Phil wasn’t so much annoyed or agitated as he was confused. 

“Because he really is into you.” Amanda discarded the packet and smiled knowingly at Phil before leaving the kitchen.

Carl, who could have anyone he wanted, into _him?_ No way. Besides, he didn’t swing that way. 

Phil remained motionless for the next few minutes, not necessarily bewildered so much as that he couldn’t help but feel that he was somehow missing the boat.  
***  
Phil failed to see what the rest of his family found so great about _Hell on Wheels,_ but that was what everyone else had wanted to watch, so he wasn’t going to be a jerk about it.

Instead, while his parents and Amanda were on the couch, he sat in the recliner off to the side, occasionally glancing at Blake sitting on the floor, or Stella curled up in front of the TV. She had already been outside earlier, so he wouldn’t have to get back up anytime soon. 

After briefly scanning the room, Phil pulled out his phone and read Carl’s reply to his text from an hour ago before opening up the photo gallery and mindlessly scrolling through the pictures. He scrolled through a deluge of photos from the Stanley Cup victory parade and from the night of the championship before coming to several that caught his eye.

The very poorly-taken HBK selfie, where he was sandwiched between Carl and Bonino and probably should have had the phone at a better angle.

Sid, Geno, and Tanger, with Carl off to the side, almost out of the frame.

Flower, Murray, and Tishy, with an accidental photobomb from Carl, who was walking past Flower’s locker right when Phil took the picture.

Lovejoy, Dumo, Kuhn, Carl, Daley, Cullen, Sheary, and Rust, who all appeared to be playing a game of How Many Guys Can We Get on This Bench. The answer appeared to be seven, as only half of Rust was on the bench, and he was only remaining upright by bracing himself with his left leg.

Carl and Phil at Primanti’s, the night they tried their namesake sandwiches. Bonino would have come if not for a doctor’s appointment for the infected elbow. 

A grinning Carl holding a confused Stella up to the phone.

It didn’t take Phil long to notice that Carl was in every picture. Was he just unknowingly taking pictures with Carl in each one, or was Carl making sure he was in all of them?

Phil’s train of thought was interrupted when the phone rang and Carl’s face popped up onto the screen. He swiped right and pushed himself out of the recliner.

“Hello?” He left the living room and went upstairs to his room.


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey there, stranger,” came the amused greeting from the other end of the line.

“Stranger?” Phil laughed as he closed the door and sat down on his bed. “We last spoke on Sunday.”

“Yeah, feels like forever. What’s up?”

Phil chuckled briefly before acknowledging to himself that yes, it _had_ been too long. “Absolutely nothing. Shouldn’t you be swimming or hiking or something?”

“Well, Dundas Peak isn’t open at night, so that’s kinda hard.”

_Dundas Peak._ Phil’s blood immediately ran cold. “Wait. That’s in…Toronto.”

“Yeah,” Carl replied nonchalantly.

“I…thought you were in Hawaii.”

“I left early. I’m in Toronto now.”

Somehow, Phil managed not to drop the phone. “The hell are you doing there?!”

“Well, the day after tomorrow, I have the Cup, and I have a proposition for you.”

“Um…” Phil felt his chest tightening. “By proposition, what do you mean?”

“You’ve seen the _Thor_ movies, right?"

“Yeah, what about them?”

“Thor gets cast out of Asgard but comes back to fight the demons that did so. Instead of running away, he faces his worst fears and gets closure.”

That wasn’t quite how the movies went, but Carl was apparently trying to make some sort of point, so Phil just went with it. “And what does this have to do with me?”

“Well, we don’t have superpowers or Mjolnir, but we have the Cup. I say we ride around Toronto eating hot dogs out of it.”

Once the mutual fits of hysterical laughter had died down, Phil felt his insides shudder. “I…I can’t.”

“But you’d like to, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, but…I just don’t think…”

“I’m giving up my day with the Cup for this.”

Phil felt his core temperature skyrocket, and desperately searched his brain for a proper response. All he could manage was a wavering “…Really?”

“Yeah,” Carl replied firmly. “That’s why I want to fly you up here late tomorrow. You know, finally get you some closure.”

“I…” Phil’s heart was now pounding so hard that he began to fear that it might explode. “I’d like that, but if something happens…”

“I’ve taken care of that. I’ve pulled some strings with the Hall, Mario, Rutherford, and Sully already. They know what to expect from this.”

Okay, one crisis averted. But the next one… “How am I getting there?”

“I bought you a ticket out of Madison at 7:00 tomorrow night. I’ll email it to you once we’re done.”

So Phil had to _fly_ there. _Alone._ Was this also payback for chickening out on the Colbert appearance? Carl had been disappointed when Phil refused, but Bonino was downright fucking pissed. Phil didn’t care, though. He was not getting on that eight-seat deathtrap.

“Relax, it’s a passenger plane. You’ll be fine. You should be in around 11, so nobody will notice us then. I’ll come pick you up.”

Phil nodded, disregarding the fact that Carl couldn’t see him. “All right. I’ll see you sometime tomorrow.”

“Okay. I can’t wait.” The excitement was apparent in Carl’s voice.

Carl’s excitement was infectious, and caused Phil to smile as well. “Me neither. See you tomorrow.”

“Okay, bye.” With that, Carl hung up. 

Phil put the phone down on his nightstand, sighing deeply as he paced back and forth across his room. He never would have thought of telling Toronto’s media to go fuck themselves, but Carl had set up this elaborate _I Love Lucy_ -esque scheme for him. 

Because Carl wanted Phil to have closure.

Phil felt his heart leap at that thought, but the sensation was soon tempered by the email notification on his phone. He picked up the phone, looked at his emails, and sure enough, there was the ticket Carl had bought for him. 

Phil sighed deeply and paced around the room again, surprised he wasn’t wearing holes in the carpet at this rate. He just needed to somehow survive three hours alone on a plane…

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden knock. “Can I come in?” Amanda asked from behind the door.

“Yeah, sure,” came the monotone reply.

“Is something wrong?” Amanda stepped into the room with a concerned expression. “You don’t look good.” 

“Well...” Phil gritted his teeth and turned his gaze towards the ceiling before speaking again. “Carl wants to fly me to Toronto with him tomorrow.” 

Sure enough, Amanda perked up at the statement. “Do tell.” 

“To…” Phil started pacing again, trying to dispel the churning in his stomach. “Parade around the city while eating hot dogs out of the Cup.”

Amanda clutched her stomach as she doubled over laughing. Once she regained her composure, she took a few deep breaths before standing up. “You have to post pictures on Instagram.”

“I dunno. The whole thing just seems, well…”

“I fail to see where this is a problem.”

“Not only that, but…he bought me a plane ticket. He wants me to _fly_ there.”

“Well, how were you expecting to get there?” Amanda asked sardonically. “Were you planning to ride the moose?”

“No, it’s just…”

Amanda’s expression suddenly evolved into one that was far more thoughtful. “You know, now you’ve got me thinking…”

Phil silently turned his head towards his sister.

“He’s doing all this for you?”

“Yeah, he said something about…closure?” The words seared through Phil, baking every single one of his nerves as the churn in his stomach started up again. 

“Whoa.” Amanda recoiled in shock. “Holy crap.”

“Yeah.”

“Dude.” Amanda stepped over to Phil and put a hand on his shoulder. “And you still don’t think he likes you?”

There was no response from Phil other than his jaw dropping. This was actually the first moment he thought about the trip in any other capacity than immediate apprehension. Now that she mentioned it…what did he mean by that?

…No. No way. That was impossible.

“How much more obvious could he be making it?” When Phil remained silent and expressionless save for vacant eyes, Amanda sighed before switching gears. “Have you thought about what I said earlier?”

“You honestly think that someone like him would like someone like me?” Phil shook his head, dumbfounded. “I mean…actually _like_ someone like me?”

“I don’t _think_ it,” Amanda replied with a deliberate smile. “I _know_ it. I’ve watched your games. I was at the championship parties. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“Well, tell me this, then.” Amanda extended her arm so that she now had it wrapped around Phil. “How do you feel about him?”

“I…” All of Phil’s thoughts from the Stanley Cup victory parade on to the present moment flashed through his head instantaneously, like reflections in a prism. “…I really don’t know.”

“You know what?” Amanda squeezed the shoulder against her hand. “I think you’ll find your answers in Toronto. How you feel, and how he feels.”

Phil turned his head and looked his sister straight in the eyes, his face a hybrid of apprehension and confusion. 

“You want to see him again, right?”

Phil nodded.

“Have you missed him?”

The question finally forced Phil to admit it to himself. “…Yes.”

“Then go,” Amanda said, smiling brightly. “I can drive you to the airport, and I’ll take care of Stella for you while you’re gone. Just text me when you’re there so I know you’re all right.”

“Okay.” Phil nodded slowly and left Amanda’s grip to go retrieve his phone. He stared at the plane ticket on the screen for a few moments, throat clenching so tightly he thought he’d be sick.

“Phil?” Amanda’s arms were now crossed over her chest.

“Hmm?” Phil looked up at her.

“Get on the damn plane.”  
***  
The flight wasn’t until the evening, so that left plenty of time in between to try and stave off the sudden existential dread. Sleeping in late (if 9:30 AM could be considered late) did seem to help.

However, the first thing Phil encountered when he made his way downstairs to the kitchen was slightly off-putting.

His parents were seated at the opposite ends of the table engrossed in some sort of discussion he could barely hear from his vantage point on the steps. From the expressions on their faces, however, it did look rather serious.

Phil took two more precursory steps down before stopping in his tracks once he heard his dad’s voice.

“…should really stay out of this.”

Phil slunk back as far as he could behind the eave in the wall that covered the first part of the steps to the second floor, turning as much as he could to see from where he was standing.

“I still think we should say something,” his mom responded.

“No,” his dad insisted. “They’re both adults. It’s none of our business what they do.”

That was the moment when Phil could no longer hold the position he was attempting to balance in and fell to his left, where he would have crashed against the banister had he not braced himself with both of his arms. While he managed to keep himself from falling down the stairs or breaking any other parts of the house around him, the impact still made far more noise than he would have liked. 

“Well, good morning,” his mom began. “Going to Toronto?”

Phil nodded silently. 

“All right. Just tell us how it went when you get back.” And with that, both of his parents rose from the kitchen table. 

Phil’s dad noticed the confused look on his son’s face and turned around momentarily. “Need to cut the grass,” he explained before leaving the kitchen. 

“Mom?”

“I just remembered I have to do something.” She also left just as soon as she had spoken.

Phil remained on the stairs for a few moments, dumbfounded. What was that all about?

He was jarred out of his reverie by several insistent barks at the bottom of the stairs.

“C’mon, Stella,” Phil said as he made his way to the bottom of the steps and tried to remember where he had last put her leash. “Let’s go for a walk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The HBK line was invited to be on Colbert, but Phil's [ fear of small planes, ](http://www.thescore.com/news/1045354) which Bonino hinted comes from an overall fear of flying, put an end to that.


	3. Chapter 3

Even as Phil attempted to divert his attention from his current surroundings, he still couldn’t help but bristle at being so far towards the back of the plane.

At least he wasn’t in the exit row. That was a dealbreaker. If he’d have ended up there and the announcement about being unable to assist others came during the safety briefing, damn right he would have asked to change seats. 

Though if something did happen, there had to be an easier way to the exit row from where he was. Unfortunately, he was sitting by the window, so he couldn’t just dart out into the aisle. Maybe if he bowled over the middle-aged Japanese businessman sitting next to him, shoved aside those three teenagers in front, and stepped on that one guy five rows up…

The businessman looked up from his newspaper for a few brief seconds to open that one valve on his side that blew air as loudly as possible. Great.

Phil stared absentmindedly out the window at the infinite blackness below, trying to tune out the deafening roar of the air valve above him. Just what he needed: to be flying over Lake Huron at night, when there was no way to tell where he was. Also, if they were to crash into the lake, it would probably be quite some time until the wreckage or the bodies were located—

Almost as if on cue, the plane shook violently as it hit a bout of turbulence. Phil’s already-ironclad deathgrip on the edges of the seat tightened as he clenched his eyes shut and ground his teeth. _Oh shit, this is it, we’re all gonna die, shit, shit, shit, shit—_

The PA system crackled to life. “We’ll be experiencing some slight turbulence as we make our initial approach.” _SLIGHT?!_ Who were they kidding? “Current time in Toronto is 10:37 PM Eastern, temperature 57 degrees, weather partly cloudy, and we should be landing in about 25 minutes—”

Which was just long enough to say a few prayers and try not to throw up.  
***  
The turbulence had mercifully died down before the plane started circling, but then came Phil’s second-least favorite part after the entire flight itself: the landing, which always hit like a cross check right between the numbers.

Then there was also another disadvantage to being so far in the back of the plane: even when everything had come to a complete stop and Phil felt safe enough to stand up, then he’d have to wait God knew how long while all the people up front took for-fucking- _ever_ to climb out of their seats and get all 500 of their individual carry-on bags.

It could be worse. He didn’t need the airsick bag this time.

When the space around him finally started to clear, the businessman next to him simply pulled his laptop bag out from under his seat and was on his way. Good. This guy was efficient. 

They had landed later than expected and it was now after 11. At least the airport would be fairly deserted this late at night. No one to recognize him or notice that he couldn’t remember where the baggage claim was. And he had been here _how_ many times?

Sure enough, the terminal was a ghost town as Phil stepped out of the covered gangplank and through the metal door, except for a janitor, someone sleeping on one of the chairs, and the announcer reading off airport minutiae in alternating English, French, and Chinese.

If things were this empty, it would be much easier to find Carl, too.

But first, customs.  
***  
It was almost like walking into a wind tunnel when the curbside doors opened. No wonder there was turbulence earlier.

Phil paused and scanned his surroundings. Three taxis, one bus, a few people here and there—

Though he did get a baffled look from the nearby baggage attendant when he yelped at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey there.” 

“Don’t scare me like that!” Phil objected weakly as he turned towards the body attached to the hand, but couldn’t manage to sound very annoyed.

And how could he? Carl’s smile was like a beam of light piercing the darkness at this point, the blue eyes dancing happily as Carl’s features softened before both men met in a fumbling hug.

“How was your flight?” 

“Terrifying.” 

“I figured as much,” Carl responded with a sigh. “Let’s get out of here.”  
***  
Phil couldn’t help but laugh when he saw the Mustang convertible Carl had rented under the glare of the parking lot streetlights: jet black with yellow stripes. Of course he was going to be as ostentatious as possible while going through with his plan.

Driving into the city most likely took forever due to how far away the airport was, but if it did, Phil never noticed. The trip mostly consisted of Carl talking and him listening, but Carl’s excitement was so infectious that it didn’t even matter that he was talking about the trip to Dundas Park that was in the Instagram pictures that he posted. So what if they had already discussed it? Besides, Carl was right. It was nice to be able to explore areas you wouldn’t normally get to see when you had practice or a game to worry about.

The only thing that clued Phil in to the fact they were fairly close to Toronto was the fact that the lights suddenly became brighter and more numerous. Upon making that observation, he realized that he hadn’t even been paying attention to his surroundings because he had been looking at Carl the whole time. The guy was nothing if not a master multitasker; carrying on a conversation and occasionally turning to look and smile at Phil while still managing to cruise down the Gardiner as if he were simply walking in a straight line.

Somehow, Carl seemed different tonight. It wasn’t just the fading redness on his arms and legs from when he had discovered in Hawaii that he burned rather than tanned, which prompted a few Norse origin jokes from Phil in response. He was far more expressive; smiling more, talking faster, gesticulating wildly with one hand at some points, and inadvertently tossing his hair around whenever he nodded or shook his head in response to anything that Phil said, which all probably sounded downright stupid at this point. 

Maybe it was the residual anxiety from the flight or the late hour, but Phil found himself barely able to say much in response, mostly just staring and zoning out, to the point where he forgot where he was. It wasn’t until Carl pulled into the parking garage that he suddenly realized he was no longer nervous about the reason he was there to begin with. During the ride, he had been so relaxed, even _happy._ How long had it been since they could hang out like that, let alone it being just the two of them? 

Okay, so it hadn’t been _that_ long…but it had still been too long.

It was almost midnight by the time they got up to the room, and Phil was beginning to feel it. Even so, like Carl, he couldn’t help but notice there was only the one king-sized bed in the room.

“Shit,” Carl muttered to no one in particular. “This is awkward.” From the look on Carl’s face, it was clear that he was mentally kicking himself for not thinking things all the way through. “Um, I suppose you can take the bed…”

“It’s all right,” Phil said with a shrug. “How many times have I fallen asleep next to you on the plane anyways? Or roomed with you, for that matter?”

“True.” With that, Carl headed into the bathroom, leaving Phil to rummage through his suitcase for a pair of sleep shorts.  
***  
Of all the times Phil could have picked to start considering his muddled feelings for his friend and linemate, 8:00 AM in a hotel room in Toronto after having slept in the same bed with him (albeit on the other side, but still) was probably one of the worst.

Yet there he was, examining them one by one. Whether it was due to Amanda’s earlier nudging or their close proximity was unclear, but everything he had purposefully repressed during the regular season and the playoffs cascaded out of the breached levee of his subconscious.

The thoughts and feelings had started becoming intrusive during the first round of the playoffs, but Phil had forced himself to lock them away. He couldn’t afford the distractions from his ultimate goal. Not then, when both victory and vindication were at stake. 

It started with a few simple observations, like the bounce and flow of Carl’s flaxen hair or how smoothly and effortlessly he moved on the ice. Or the depth of those blue eyes, and how they eventually began to sparkle whenever they were gazing right into his own. 

Then they started spending a lot more time together off the ice. They had started out with the Squirrel Hill pub crawl, but had to stop when the HBK line started getting too much attention. Sometimes they’d head to Primanti’s, where Bonino might occasionally join them if he had a break from Maisie. Other times, they might just hang out at one another’s houses, where they might be playing video games, entertaining Stella, binge-watching _Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.,_ or, just staying up late bullshitting, which they tended to do the most often.

Phil often spent time hanging out with his other teammates, who he also considered friends. But he preferred Carl’s company most of all. There was something different about him…he just couldn’t figure out what or why.

What was this that he was feeling?

A notification ping from Phil’s phone woke him completely. He pulled the phone off the nightstand next to his head and opened his notifications to find a text from Amanda, who wondered why he hadn’t texted her the previous night. He answered with a bumbling apology before putting the phone back down and pushing himself out of bed.

It was only then that Phil noticed Carl wasn’t anywhere in the room. The bathroom was also dark and empty. Confused, he turned on the tableside lamp to see a Clif bar folded into a sheet of hotel paper on the desk. After walking over and retrieving the paper from where it had been sitting, he opened it to reveal a note.

_Out getting everything ready. Left you breakfast._

Phil looked down at the Clif bar and grinned. Vanilla almond. Carl had remembered his favorite kind.


	4. Chapter 4

Either Carl was really efficient or Phil had slept in really late, because Carl returned to the room less than half an hour later. 

All they really had to do at this point was head over to the Hockey Hall of Fame down the street and pick up the Cup and its required attendant. Carl had been out to pick up the hot dogs, a case of Labatt Blue, and the driver he hired to make things easier on himself.

“I don’t want to keep Josh waiting too long,” Carl said as he dug to the bottom of his suitcase and pulled out his Penguins home jersey. “You ready?”

Phil pulled number 81 out of one of the inside compartments of his own suitcase with the biggest grin he’d had since lifting the Cup. “Let’s fucking do this.”  
***  
Getting set up wasn’t all that difficult or time-consuming. They exchanged some pleasantries with Josh before heading over to the Hall and meeting with the representative, who was now sitting in the front passenger seat with a permanent “I am _so_ done with this shit” expression on his face.

Phil and Carl sat on the lowered roof frame in the back, jerseys on, with the hot dog-filled Cup between them. Carl had previously lamented the lack of condiments besides the Big Three of ketchup, mustard, and relish, but his love of Chicago-style dogs would probably cause him to lose the deposit on the car.

The makeshift parade started off uneventfully enough. Josh drove at a snail’s pace, which was enough to draw the attention of bystanders before some of them did a double take prior to the “is that who I think it is?” expression then crossing their faces. No matter how many times it happened, it never ceased to amuse Phil, who would simply wave and smile.

Others ignored him completely, but those were the Bay Street Boys for you. 

Things were going well. Phil had no idea why he had been so nervous about this in the first place. Hell, this was actually a lot of fun.

But then his heart stopped when he recognized the intersection he was at. Yonge and Bloor. 

Phil leaned over and gently nudged Josh’s shoulder with his foot. “Turn left here.” Carl shot Phil a worried glance as Josh obeyed.

Phil then transfixed his gaze to the right, scanning the right side of the road as the all-too-familiar scenery started coming into focus. There was St. Paul’s, the Irish pub nearby, the Starbucks that always took too damn long—

And then, every nerve inside sparked to life and fired on all cylinders as they approached the Toronto Sun offices, and Phil saw _him._

Steve Simmons.

Just standing at the curb, coffee in hand, minding his own business. For once. 

Carl, too, must have recognized the man, as his expression immediately changed from casual levity to intense apprehension as he shot another concerned look at Phil and held it for far longer this time.

Steve was then approached by a short Asian woman in a business suit who tapped him on the shoulder and pointed at the approaching Mustang. Phil surmised that she was one of his coworkers, but if she was a reporter, he didn’t recognize her.

Steve glanced up towards where the woman was pointing, and Phil felt his heart shudder again the second they made eye contact.

Here was the guy who had taken character assassination to a whole new level, right there, looking directly at him. Phil could either do something now, or regret not having taken the opportunity for the rest of his life.

This was it.

It was now or never. 

Phil set his half-empty beer can down before returning Steve’s glance and raising his hands in the air before forming them into fists, middle fingers extended.

Carl, who had chosen the wrong moment to start eating another hot dog, doubled over and almost choked as he wheezed with laughter. 

Steve’s jaw dropped as he turned white as a sheet. The Asian woman turned away and ran as quickly as she could in her pumps, clutching one hand firmly over her mouth. 

Carl opened another can of beer and began chugging its contents to try and get everything out of his throat, but much of it ended up on his jersey since he was fighting a losing battle with the giggle-snorts that still emerged from time to time.

Steve remained dumbfounded for a good long while before muttering something to himself and walking away very, very quickly.

“Dude.” Phil turned to Carl, who slammed the now-empty beer can down. “You okay?”

Carl took a few heaving breaths before forcing all the air out of his lungs in one long sigh, and then, still giggling a bit, turned to meet Phil’s gaze. “Did you see the look on his face?!”

Phil nodded enthusiastically and then started giggle-snorting himself, which set Carl off once more.

The Hall representative, who had been facing forward the whole time and could only surmise what had occurred behind him, heaved a rather aggravated sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Bay Street Boys" is a term referring to the employees working in the major firms in Toronto's Financial District, which is centered around Bay Street.


	5. Chapter 5

It took Carl three tries to get the room key in the door slot because they had started laughing for the millionth time in a row. Phil had tears running down his face by this point.

Once they were inside the room, Carl peeled off his jersey and started searching his suitcase for the spot remover he had thankfully thought of packing. By that point, Phil’s phone wouldn’t stop pinging from all of the texts he was receiving.

From Dumo: _You realize you made the Sun’s Facebook page?_ Phil followed the link in the text, which contained a Facebook post with three sentences tersely acknowledging his earlier exploits with as little detail as journalistic standards would allow.

From Bonino: _Pics or GTFO._

From Amanda: _ROFLMAO way to go!!!_

From Tanger: _Dude, you have balls the size of Jupiter. How do you fit those in your pants?_

“Maybe I should shut this thing off for a bit,” Phil thought out loud as the phone was now barely able to keep up with all of the notifications. It had only been two hours since they had returned the Cup and its representative, who was beyond grateful to be relieved of his duties, to the Hall. Josh had also accepted the tips offered by both men and gone on his way.

Then the phone started ringing. Phil swiped right, intent on shutting it off once he was rid of the caller.

But then the phone rang _again,_ and it was from the same number, one he didn’t recognize.

“Jesus Christ, leave me alone,” Phil muttered as he once again swiped right. His finger hovered over the power button when the voicemail notification popped up.

“I think someone _really_ wants to talk to you,” Carl surmised as he walked behind Phil and over to the closet, where he hung his jersey to let it dry. 

With a half-hearted shrug, Phil opened the voicemail and froze once he heard the recording.

“Phil, it’s Sid. We need to talk.” Sid was speaking in the calmest angry captain tone that he could manage.

“Shit,” Phil interjected, staring at the phone. “How does he know?” Sid couldn’t have possibly heard about their little adventure from social media. After all, this was the guy who still required assistance with the chip reader at Kiva Han. 

“Call him back,” Carl said as he walked over to Phil and stood close by. “Put it on speaker so I can hear.”

Phil took a deep breath as he hit the redial and speaker buttons, then put the phone up to his ear.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end sounded more tired than anything else.

“Sid, it’s Phil. You wanted to talk?”

The angry captain voice came back, without any traces of calmness whatsoever this time. “Absolutely right I wanted to talk. Taylor told me about what happened. What the—what in the h—h— _heavens_ were you thinking?!”

“It wasn’t—”

“Do you have any idea how this makes the team look? The organization?”

“Actually—”

“And how do you think this makes you look? Huh? Seriously, how immature—”

“If you would let me talk—”

“Now you can imagine what the media in Toronto will—”

“Gimme that.” Carl snatched the phone from Phil’s hand and put it up to his ear. “Sid, it’s Carl. This is all my fault.”

“…Huh?”

“This was my idea. I arranged this. I spoke with Sully, Mario, Jim, the Hall, everyone beforehand.”

“Wait a minute.” The anger had left Sid’s voice and given way to confusion. “They all knew about this? And were okay with it?”

“Yeah. Nobody told you?”

“No.”

“That’s strange.”

“That _is_ strange,” Sid declared. “Why wouldn’t they tell me about something like this?”

“I dunno. Maybe they thought you’d get upset.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, I’D GET UPSET?!” came the indignant reply. Phil couldn’t suppress a giggle. 

Carl grimaced as he bit his bottom lip, desperately trying not to laugh. “I don’t know,” he said after taking a deep breath. “You’ll have to ask them.”

“Oh, believe me, I _will._ ”

“Listen, Sid. I don’t want Phil taking any of the blame for this. I’m ready to accept the consequences, whatever those might be.”

“Really?” The tone of Sid’s voice indicated that he was not necessarily confused as he was genuinely curious. 

“I know this was all really stupid and immature, but it was really important to me. I gave up my day with the Cup back home in Sweden because I wanted Phil to have closure and finally be able to move on from Toronto. And I wanted to be with him while he did it.”

“…Really?” Sid repeated after a long pause, voice gentler now. 

“Really. Whatever you or the league may decide to do to me, I just want you to know that I did it for him. I don’t give a damn about the news stories or any chatter on social media. But you leave him out of it, because I’ll be damned if I’m the reason he gets fined or suspended. If _I’m_ the reason he gets harmed in any way, shoot me now, because I’d never be able to live with myself.”

Phil felt his heart beat faster and his core temperature rise. Was Carl saying what he _thought_ he was saying?

“I see.” Sid’s tone remained gentle, almost shell-shocked at this point. “I’ll try to get ahold of Sully at some point and try to get the league off your backs.”

“You’re not mad at us?” Carl inquired.

“I’m not sure what I feel, honestly. I need some time to think. Tell Phil I’ll call him again some other time. And…congratulations, both of you.” With that, Sid hung up.

Slowly and silently, Carl placed the phone on the desk before turning to face Phil, eyes shining like a sunrise after a stormy night. 

And it was at that very moment that Phil suddenly understood _exactly_ what all those feelings for his friend and teammate were. He’d had them all along—he just hadn’t allowed himself to feel, to _be._

“There you have it,” Carl said solemnly as he took a few short, slow strides back to Phil’s side. “I wasn’t sure how I was going to say it, but Sid forced it out of me.”

“Carl…” Phil’s voice was halting, barely audible in the deafening silence of the room. “You would take the rap for me?”

Carl nodded. “Yes.”

“…Why?” 

Carl shook his head and looked down at his feet. “Because I hate people who demean and torment those who are important to me, and who incite others to do the same thing.” Carl looked directly into Phil’s eyes; his gaze piercing Phil’s soul like an arrow through a bullseye. “Especially when they do that to the person who is more important to me than anyone else.” 

“Carl…” Phil’s voice was croaking as it lost all inflection.

“Everything that’s happened to you…you don’t deserve it. Especially not you, someone so kind, so generous, so talented, so resilient, so…cute.” Phil snickered in embarrassment at the last word before recomposing himself. “It always just tore me apart to know what happened to you, after even before you were with the Leafs, when you had…” Phil paused and gritted his teeth, unable to bring himself to say the dreaded word. “And for Simmons to call you an _infection_ …after that, it just…You don’t deserve any of this. You deserve nothing but happiness.”

Carl paused and took a deep breath once he realized he was babbling incoherently. “We’ve only been teammates a short time, but as I’ve gotten to know you…” Visibly nervous now, Carl took several quick, shallow breaths. “How do I say this...?”

Upon deciding on the right phrase, he reached down and took one of Phil’s hands in both of his before gently pulling it against his chest. “…I’ve become very fond of you, Phil.” 

“Carl, I…” Phil balled his free hand into a fist to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, and that yes, this was really happening. The signs had been there all along.

It wasn’t that he didn’t believe that Carl had feelings for him.

It was that he didn’t _allow_ himself to believe.

Phil would never be as eloquent as Carl, not in a million years, but dammit, he could sure _try._

“Carl…” Phil moved his free hand up to squeeze Carl’s arm. “I really enjoy being with you, more so than anyone else. I like it when we’re hanging out with the other guys, but I like it the most when we’re both alone. We don’t even have to be doing anything. And when the season was over…I really missed you.”

“Phil?” Carl’s face indicated the same level of surprise that Phil had felt while listening to his half of the conversation with Sid. There was also an instantaneous glimmer in Carl’s eyes that Phil immediately recognized as hope.

“I don’t want to be away from you for too long. I just want to always be close to you. I don’t know when it started, but I’ve been really into you for a long time. I really like you. I even…” Phil shuddered at the sudden rush of nerves, mentally screaming at himself to _just say it._ “Carl…I love you.”

“Phil…” It was now Carl’s turn to be rendered speechless, simply squeezing Phil’s hand in both of his in response, allowing himself to lean against Phil when he felt a gentle tug on his arm. “…I love you, too.”

Since getting traded to the Penguins, Phil had always felt like he was standing on the edge of a canyon, with all of his aspirations on the other side and no way to cross other than attempting a long jump. Once he hit the air, he could either soar to the other ledge or come crashing down at the bottom, breaking several bones and losing quarts of blood in the process. 

Although the apprehension gradually faded as the season progressed, he had remained rooted to the ground, scared of taking that first step that had an equal chance of ending in flight or failure. 

Now, he finally felt ready to take a running start.

Phil let his hands run up Carl’s back as he pulled him close, feeling Carl’s arms slide down and encircle his waist in response. He then lifted one hand and placed it under Carl’s chin, tenderly tilting it upwards towards him, then looked right into those azure blue eyes before leaning forward and gently pressing his lips against Carl’s.

Almost instantly, Phil was able to take that leap and skyrocket to the heavens as Carl clutched his waist and kissed him back.

In the next few moments, Phil sailed across the sky, zooming faster than the speed of light, leaving a trail of stardust in his wake as he circumnavigated the globe several times.

He wasn’t simply flying. He now had the ability to touch the midnight sky. 

Phil never wanted this to end and really didn’t want to pull away, but he was starting to get rather lightheaded. He took a few shallow breaths and gazed intently at Carl, who couldn’t stop smiling as his eyes sparkled with joy and adoration.

Then Carl slid his hands up to the middle of Phil’s back and pushed him downwards before moving in for another kiss, this one much more intense than the first.

Now Carl was the one experiencing oxygen loss, as he pulled away a few moments later, gasping for breath.

“Take it easy,” Phil said with a slight chuckle.

“I won’t be seeing you for a long time after you go home,” Carl stated. “So I’m tiding us both over.”

“Yeah, now I’ll _really_ miss you, after all this.” Phil didn’t even want to think of leaving at this point; stressing to himself how important it was to be in these moments, to enjoy them to their fullest.

“Well, we still have all night here. What say we get some dinner and get out of here for a bit?”

Phil’s earlier chuckle turned into a full-fledged laugh. “Are you asking me out?”

“Call it what you like.”

“All right. Let’s get out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The "infection" reference comes from Steve Simmons' [ column ](http://www.torontosun.com/2015/07/01/leafs-were-sick-and-tired-of-kessel) about Phil getting traded to the Pens. Considering Phil's medical history, [ he was very quickly called out. ](http://thehockeywriters.com/phil-kessel-torontos-resected-tumor/) Even many of the Sun commenters thought he went too far. When I looked the articles up for the references, I noticed Simmons is now aiming his scope at PK Subban. It's as bad as it sounds.
> 
> 2\. Kiva Han is a coffee place in Pittsburgh. They used to have a shop by the Pitt campus in Oakland.


	6. Chapter 6

Going out on the town with Carl was always an adventure, and that night was no exception. Of course he would find a ping pong nightclub with a bar.

Putting pucks in the back of the net was one thing. Being able to keep a ping pong ball on the table was something else entirely. At least Carl was just as terrible at it as Phil was.

Then came the wings and the drinks. Phil suggested that maybe the drinks would improve their games. They didn’t, but the games suddenly became far more interesting. 

The excursion ended just as it had begun: with two fools run wild, giggling excessively at stupid shit that one would say to the other as they wove paths to and from the subway stations. 

Somehow, they managed to stagger back to their room despite the sudden out-of-body experience that indicated to Phil that he may have had a bit too much to drink. For his part, Carl had not only suddenly forgotten how elevators function, but now kept missing the door slot whenever he tried cramming the room key inside. As tempting as it was, Phil resisted the easy joke and grabbed Carl’s wrist before guiding it forward, allowing the room key in Carl’s hand to effortlessly slide into the slot.

“Thanks for the assist,” Carl quipped, which triggered a round of much-too-loud giggling from Phil for what had to be the billionth time that evening. 

Evidently, Carl had also hit his limit, as the first thing he did once the door was locked was amble over to the bathroom and slam the door. Apparently Carl hit the “pissing like a racehorse” phase sooner that Phil ever did.

Phil took the opportunity to retrieve his phone from his pocket and send one short text to Amanda: _You were right about us._

He smirked at the _I TOLD YOU SO_ reply that came less than a minute later. He could forgive her excessive use of heart and kissyface emojis just this once.  
***  
What a difference a day made.

The previous night, they had been on opposite ends of the bed, turned away from one another. Tonight, they were facing one another and pressed together, with Phil’s arm protectively around Carl, who had his head nestled on Phil’s shoulder and his arms curled up in front of him, with one hand against Phil’s chest.

Phil idly ran a tendril of Carl’s hair between his fingers, bemused. It was quite the privilege being allowed to touch it. Anyone else would get slugged.

It was a little surprising how quickly Carl fell asleep considering his sudden enthusiasm when they both crawled into bed. There had been a few kisses that subsequently deepened before Carl took the unprecedented step of crawling on top of Phil, prompting a low moan from the other man. This was followed by a series of whimpers when Carl adjusted his angle and made an incursion into Phil’s mouth with his tongue, all the while letting his fingers meander up and down Phil’s left arm.

Carl then pulled back, his expression a hybrid of admiration and arousal. “I like the noises you make.”

Phil’s only response was an embarrassed chuckle.

Carl’s eyes glimmered as he beamed, staring intently into Phil’s eyes as he grazed his hand across Phil’s before clasping it gently. “I’d do anything for you tonight.” 

“Anything?” Phil repeated mindlessly, contemplating the implications of that statement as he returned the grasp with his own hand.

…No. He couldn’t. Not this soon.

Carl nodded solemnly.

“…Don’t let go.”

“I’m never letting go.”

Phil regarded the hand on his chest as he reflected on that earlier exchange. Even while asleep, Carl was keeping his promise.  
***  
Phil had expected to be flying home the next day. 

He had not expected Carl to be accompanying him.

But that morning, when he had gotten out of the shower, he found Carl on the bed with his iPad buying plane tickets. He had initially wondered why Carl would want to accompany him back to Madison of all places, but it was a way to prolong their time together, to which Phil had absolutely no objections.

That, and as Carl pointed out, they were _both_ persona non grata in Toronto after yesterday.

At least they didn’t have to hang around Toronto for that much longer. The flight was leaving at noon, which was just enough time to grab breakfast, check out of the hotel, and for Carl to return the car.

But then came that whole flying part.

Which was why Phil was frozen in terror with the same deathgrip on the armrests as before, eyes squinched shut, because goddamn if that plane hadn’t just started to move again. 

Phil couldn’t stifle the pathetic whimper as the plane titled upwards. Ascents were never much fun, but this one seemed particularly rough. Maybe because it was windy again?

Phil’s eyes then snapped open when he felt something on top of his right hand. He glanced down to see Carl’s hand on top of his own. He then turned his head to see Carl looking towards him with an expression attempting to convey as much reassurance as possible.

And suddenly, somehow, he was able to believe that things were going to be all right.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Wow, I'm getting kudos before I'm even done posting this? Damn. You folks are quick.
> 
> 2\. The ping-pong bar in Toronto [ is a real place. ](http://toronto.wearespin.com/happenings/) I need to go there if I'm up that way again.


	7. Chapter 7

Things didn’t look all that different when he got home: the one car still in the driveway, the mailbox door left open, and Stella standing in the yard barking at absolutely nothing; although she did acknowledge their presence once they got out of the car.

Once Phil was done loving her up, he lugged the bags up to his room while Stella took the opportunity to demand belly rubs from Carl. Upon hearing the commotion, Amanda poked her head through the door.

“Well? How was it?”

“Fine.” Phil finished dragging everything into his room before standing up all the way to face his sister, who had made her way into the room by this point.

“Well yeah, I know about the Cup. But what else did you guys do while you were up there?”

“I told you, you were right.” What else did she want him to say?

Amanda cocked her head with a satisfied chuckle. “But surely you didn’t just sit in the room all day? Come on, what else were you two up to?”

“That’s a secret.” Phil was probably going to get an interrogation from his mom, and he certainly didn’t need one from his sister as well.

Amanda’s eyes grew wide. “Wait…you didn’t…”

“NO!” Phil immediately shouted.

“Whew, okay.”

“What kind of guy do you think I am?!”

“I was gonna say, that doesn’t sound like you.”

Phil finally got a good enough look at Amanda to realize that she was carrying some sort of baby magazine under her left arm. “You’re calling _me_ promiscuous? Why are you carrying that around, hmm?”

“It’s for Kayla!” Amanda cried indignantly. “I told her I’d plan her baby shower.”

“Famous last words?”

“Relax,” Amanda said with a dismissive wave of her free hand. “It’ll be fine. Mom wants to see you downstairs.” 

Phil followed Amanda down to the kitchen, where Carl was sitting at the kitchen table talking to their parents. Blake was also there, but only half-visible, as he was preoccupied with ransacking the cupboard.

“Welcome home, you two,” Phil’s mom said as he and Amanda walked in. “Since Carl’s only here overnight, you should show him around.”

Phil’s dad looked confused for a few brief seconds until the light bulb came on in his head. “When’s the last time you were at Monona Terrace? It’s really nice there in the summer.” 

“Wait a minute.” Blake temporarily abandoned his quest for snacks and poked his head out from the cupboard. “He just came back and you’re already trying to get rid of him?”

“Quiet, you,” Amanda muttered, shooting Blake a dirty look.

They couldn’t have made their point any clearer if they had whacked Phil upside the head with a two-by-four. “Now that you mention it; that does sound like it’s a good idea. I suppose we could always get dinner in Capitol Square, if you two don’t mind.”

“Of course it’s a good idea!” Phil’s mom shot back in _that_ tone; the mother-knows-best voice that immediately signaled that the conversation was over and any further resistance was futile. Chastened, Phil placed his fingertips on Carl’s wrist and silently escorted him out. 

Phil’s parents stood up from their spots at the kitchen table. “This couldn’t have worked out any better,” his mom stated as they both left the room, with his dad nodding in agreement.

“Uh…” Blake stared at the spot where they had previously been sitting. “What’s going on?”

Amanda inhaled sharply, weighing how she was going to break this to her brother. “Have you ever gotten the impression that Phil and Carl are…more than teammates?”

“Yeah, they’re best friends,” Blake replied. “I’m kinda jealous. I can never get that close to any of my teammates.”

Amanda rolled her eyes, sighing in exasperation. Everything she had learned in kindergarten was true. Boys really _were_ stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies, if you ever get an opportunity to plan a baby shower for a friend: **DON'T.** Trust me. Only do it for friends you'd give a lung to. Save your sanity. Trust me.


	8. Chapter 8

Capitol Square actually _had_ been a good idea. It was like doing the Squirrel Hill pub crawl all over again, except with far less hills to climb. Best of all, it was the middle of summer, so the college crowd was nowhere to be found.

It was getting fairly close to sunset when they finally made their way over to Monona Terrace. Judging by the fact that Carl had to stop and snap a few cell phone pictures of the building, maybe Phil’s dad had been on to something. Monona Terrace had completely slipped Phil’s mind, but maybe it was one of those things that just didn’t impress the locals as much, since they saw it all the time.

However, there was one thing they needed to do the minute they got inside: go straight to the rooftop gardens. 

Phil couldn’t help but get a little excited when he maneuvered past the crowds of people, some quite formally dressed, and over to the one spot he knew would impress Carl. “I like the view from here the best.”

“Whoa.” All Carl could do was turn back and forth to see Lake Monona on one side and the Wisconsin State Capitol on another. “I see why.” 

Phil grinned in satisfaction at having been able to surprise Carl for a change. Out of the corner of his eye, he also noticed a wedding party posing for a photographer a short distance away. 

Carl was now making his way towards the rooftop fountain, which had piqued his interest. He was suddenly stopped in his tracks by the bride, who shoved her way in front of him.

“Um, excuse me,” the bride stated in a conceited tone. “You’re in the way,” she added, glaring at Carl for added emphasis.

By this point, the rest of the wedding party had made their way over to the fountain for some photos. There was some pointing and murmuring among the groomsmen, who clearly recognized Phil and Carl.

“Uh…Tiffany?” One of the bridesmaids walked over and put her hand on the bride’s shoulder. “You _do_ realize who you’re talking to, right?”

“I don’t care if he’s the president or the king of England,” Tiffany snapped. “We’re getting pictures in front of the fountain next, and they’re _both in my way._ ”

The scrum of groomsmen separated to reveal the groom, who was now timidly creeping over to the four of them. “Um…excuse me?” he stammered, his face frozen in sheer anxiety. “Mr. Kessel? Mr. Hagelin?” 

“We don’t bite,” Phil reassured him. “What do you want?”

“Um…” The groom turned his head for one brief glance at Tiffany and the bridesmaid before focusing back on the more famous duo. “We were talking, and…would it be too much trouble if you two took a picture with me and the guys?”

“Sure, I don’t mind,” Phil replied. He glanced towards Carl, who smiled and nodded.

 _“WHAT?!”_ The shade of red Tiffany’s face turned clashed horrendously with her wedding gown. “They’re not in the party! And they’re not even dressed properly! Just look at them! They look like—”

“Uh, Tiffany, honey?” 

“What?!”

“Shut up.” 

Tiffany slammed her bouquet onto the ground and clenched her hands into fists, looking three seconds away from a major coronary as she stormed towards the edge of the rooftop gardens. The bridesmaid who had spoken earlier was joined by three others who rushed over to try and calm her down. Phil surmised that from the speed and efficiency which they were doing so, they were quite used to defusing Tiffany’s tantrums.

The photographer only kept them for three photos in front of the fountain, moving the groomsmen around so that everyone got a turn standing next to the pair. Phil and Carl both chatted for a bit with all of them, but spent a little more time with the groom, who they learned was named Keith. Keith appeared to need the extra encouragement. 

There were a few moments of silence as the photographer and the entire wedding party vanished into the rooftop gardens. Carl took one more look around to make sure no one was within earshot. “I don’t think that marriage is gonna last.”

Phil laughed, but couldn’t help feeling sorry for Keith. “Yeah, shame they spent all that money on having everything here, too.” 

Absentmindedly, Phil then turned towards the lake to discover that the sun was now setting. “Check it out.” 

Carl looked to see what Phil was referring to and appeared similarly awestruck at the reds, oranges, and pinks of the horizon, which was now glowing as if it were on fire. A few stray rays of waning sunshine danced over the glassy surface of the lake, disappearing just as quickly as they had emerged. 

There was nothing but silence between the two men as they watched the sun’s dying light sink into the lake, seemingly extinguished by the placid waters below and the expanding darkness above.

Phil had no idea how much time passed from his initial observation of the sky until the sun fully set. Not one word was exchanged between the two of them the entire time. 

And yet, it didn’t matter.

Phil hated to spoil the moment, but if it was this late, they’d soon be kicked off the roof because it was close to closing time. “We’d better go. I think they’re closing soon.”

“Hmm.” Carl looked and sounded disappointed, but obediently followed Phil to the stairs.


	9. Chapter 9

It was well after midnight when they finally crept back to Phil’s house, but the only occupant sleeping at that point was Stella. Once everyone else finally did get to bed, Carl ended up sleeping on the downstairs couch after Phil’s dad invoked the “not in my house” rule.

And when it did come time to take Carl to the airport, it was much too soon.

Phil had the easy part. All he had to do was drop off Carl. Carl was the one who would be stuck playing airport hopscotch all the way back to Sweden.

That fact still didn’t make saying goodbye any easier. 

The whole adventure had begun with a hug and was now ending with one, except this one was far different than the first.

“Thanks for everything,” Phil said, burrowing as close to Carl’s hair as he could despite the impediment of the height difference.

“I’d do it all over again,” Carl replied, hugging Phil more tightly than he ever had since they first met. 

“I know.” There really wasn’t much else to say, mostly because Phil was busy trying to absorb the current moment as fully as he could so he could remember it as vividly as possible for the next three months: Carl’s warmth, the arms clutching his back, the hair splayed across his chest, the closeness of their breaths and bodies, the sensation of Carl in his arms…

“I don’t know how I’ll make it until September,” Carl stated as he squeezed Phil tighter for a few seconds before relaxing his grip. “But I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah. Keep in touch, okay?” Phil raised his head to stare into those sapphire blue eyes, which were now clouded over with the fog of melancholy.

“I will.” After scanning the area to make sure they truly were alone, Phil leaned in for one last kiss, one that would have to tide them over for the next two months.

For all those years whenever he watched movies that Amanda picked, Phil never believed that any of the goodbyes in romantic comedies or dramas had any basis in reality. They had always seemed so overwrought, like some director was trying way too hard for an emotional impact.

But now, all of the emotions conveyed in all of those partings, all of those long kisses goodbye, were perfectly and painfully clear. 

Carl broke the kiss and squeezed Phil one last time; aware he had a plane to catch. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Okay.” Maybe if Phil smiled, it wouldn’t be so bad. “Bye. See you in September.”

“Bye, _sötnos._ ” Carl smiled back and picked up his bags before entering the terminal and fading into the crowd of travelers.

Phil couldn’t shake the wistfulness on the drive back home. Even a different Tom Petty song playing on the radio wasn’t cheering him up.

But when he pulled into the driveway and turned the car off, he heard the telltale ping from his phone. Curious, he pulled the phone out of his pocket and smiled once he read the text from Carl: _I miss you already._

_The feeling is mutual,_ was his reply.

And somehow, that was enough to restore the upbeat stride in his step as he walked towards the front door, joined by Stella, who abandoned her post in the front yard once she saw her master.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. My in-laws invoked the "not in my house" rule back when my husband and I were engaged. It didn't matter that our wedding was in a few months and in the planning stages, we weren't allowed to sleep together. 
> 
> 2\. "Sötnos" is Swedish for "sweetie."

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. The quote in the summary comes from [ this June 8th column ](http://triblive.com/sports/joestarkey/10599900-74/kessel-leafs-dock) in the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review.
> 
> 2\. What's really hilarious is I started writing this about 12 days before the news broke that [ Phil is bringing the Cup to Toronto. ](http://www.cbc.ca/sports/hockey/nhl/phil-kessel-bringing-cup-to-toronto-fans-react-1.3660211) Great minds think alike, I guess. I decided to leave this as I originally envisioned it, as I actually came up with this idea during the Finals.
> 
> 3\. Of course, with that news, some of this will be inaccurate, but if I'm not changing it, I'm going with what was fact (or surmised possibility) at the time.


End file.
